He should never have touched it, let alone walk inside like a moron. Vilciba banged on what he thought was the door, for the umpteenth time. Was he even in the apartment anymore?

If the murder village called Eyam had taught him anything, it was that touching was very bad. Yet as he was on his way back from the loo, he had let his curiosity overcome him.

A box had stood by the front door, or at least something that looked like a box. The tall rectangular contraption with its polished wooden finish and glowing strips of light on the vertices, may as well have been a shiny coffin. And what did Vilcība do? He had walked into the coffin, like an idiot. He had let his curiosity overcome him. What did it matter how impossibly large the box looked on the inside? He had walked straight into a trap inside a dark abyss surrounded by moans and creaking floorboards.

Vilcība had a hand on the hilt of his sword, he may not have had super hearing or super-anything anymore, but he wasn't going to die without a fight. So he waited for whatever was making that noise to attack him. He waited for a minute and then ten, but nothing happened. An entire hour passed before he gave up and sat and sat cross-legged on the floor.

This was just like being in prison. He began to count the seconds in his head. No matter what happened, he wasn't going to lose track of time. Without time, he would lose sense of himself. Days would feel like weeks. If this was a prison, he had been trained for this his entire life.

He had waited for over two hours before the door finally opened with one last creak, and the groaning and creaking stopped. Vilcība could see light outside, but he didn't move. Nothing had actually happened to him inside the box. Was it smart to leave?

Realising he couldn't stay in the dark box forever, he made his way outside cautiously, sword in hand and stopped just as he stepped out of the box.

A wave of revulsion overcame him. There was no way he would ever forget the panelled floor or the plush carpet that was spread underneath his feet.

This was his father's home, terrifying and broken despite the facade of gleam. Vilcība walked into the first room, he wasn't sure how much of it was real but if he had a chance to tell his asshole of a father what selling him had turned him into, he was going to do just that. He had a sword too. So far too much could be accomplished today.

But he didn't see his father. Inside the room he walked into, Vilcība spotted a scrawny prepubescent boy with dark hair and bright purple eyes. Two eyes. This was him, long before he'd been sold to the monsters, long before he had lost his eye.

This was impossible.

Vilcība moved around the boy, but the latter didn't seem to notice him. The past version of himself was too busy sniffling over a piece of paper.

"It's a trick riddle," Vilcība told his past self, "you won't be able to solve it and he's going to send you away anyway."

There was no movement from the boy though, and it made him wonder if he could even hear him. Vilcība waved his hand in front of the boy's face before he was certain the entire thing was an apparition. Another test-like the stupid scroll and making Mr Dev laugh even though he really needed to pee.

He peered over his younger self's shoulder to read the riddle aloud, "A man calls his dog from the opposite side of the river. The dog crosses the river without getting wet, and without using a bridge or boat. How?"

So all he had to do was solve this riddle, that sounded easy enough. It also meant it really wasn't as fake of a riddle as he had first thought. He paced the room with his arms folded tightly across his chest. He couldn't risk touching anything and ending up in another time again.

Vilcība understood that the man and dog were both ordinary, so the dog obviously didn't teleport across. He had been told off by his father by suggesting it had flown across too. He sighed, the riddle had seemed so unimportant to him back then. Young Vilcība was too busy making sparks and earthquakes. If he had been smarter, he wouldn't have been worrying about his own sparks and would have helped his little sister with her real issues.

While he was a mimic, she had an actual ability. One she had never been able to master. He should have ditched this stupid riddle and gone down to her in the next room, maybe help her condense the air or freeze some water.

Wait a minute!

The water was frozen! Vilcība darted back to the riddle to read it aloud once again, he was sure of it now. But the joy was short-lived. Why would his father give him a logical puzzle? The man didn't care about him, he had sold Vilcība to an abuser not too long later.

He felt just as helpless as his snivelling, cowering past self in the room. He was supposed to be helping someone, the whole point of this scroll was to help. Instead, he'd faced more near-death experiences in the past twenty-four hours than he had in his entire life.

"I solved it!" he yelled at no one in particular, "The lake was frozen, the answer is ice!"

Someone yelled back, but it took him a minute to realise it wasn't him they were yelling at. Vilcība clapped his hands over his ears as the quarrelling in the adjoining room grew louder.

It didn't matter if the arguing ever stopped. It didn't even matter if he ever left this stupid house. No matter how far he ran, no matter the distance, this crappy place would never leave him alone.

(1022 Words)